It Ends Tonight
by Squid.Butler
Summary: Kyle is tired of seeing Kenny destroy himself with drugs and alcohol. The two agreed he needs to end his bad habits. Starting tonight. Rated T for searing and drugs? :I


I know our relationship never seemed like much to anyone else, but Kenny was certainly one of my closest friends. When he thought nobody was watching his stupid stunts, those days when he thought nobody worried for him, the times he stays quiet and tries to dissappear.

I notice it all.

Nobody sees Kenny as the most approachable person. A lot of people stray from him with his clothes that have seen better days and his greased out chippy hair. That and the collection of bandaids on every joint imagineable.

I don't blame these people for straying from him- especially when he decides to pull out a cigarette or a bottle of booze. Thing is, I know they'd change their minds about him if they saw him smile.

He seems fo of hit a funk at the age of 15, becoming more quiet than he usually was. He reached a point where he felt dragged along to do things. He always seemed like his usual self to everyone else- or should I say the people that never got to know him. I feel I'm the only responsible friend because whenever he's down, it seems I'm the only one that can point it out like a sore thumb.

Maybe it's because Kenny's special to me.

I notice it when the little things happen to him. And being the responsible one, I try my hardest to confront him about his feelings- and most times, he'll just lie through his teeth about everything. He doesn't realise his mask doesn't phase me, and it worries me even more he'd try to hide himself from his friends in the first place. There's the majority of where I'm coming from here.

I always figured his drinking and smoking to be a problem. Nobody else was bothered with it except me. But then again, my house is very strict against these things. And to be honest, I think he's been smoking since the day we all tried it out behind the school- he's just open about it now.

As for the beer, he only drinks when his parents are out- drinking, of course. Even when I spent the night, he'd take a swig of it. It started to sicken me.

It's been a few days after I had a little one man intervention with him about his problem. That's the first real time I've seen him be completely honest with me. It was releiving. We agreed I would help him with his alcoholism first, seeing as that was mainly what caused his grades to go down. That and the reasons he'd come to school with a hangover, obviously.

Luckilly, I'm spending the night at his house tonight since his parents are going out gambling tonight. One of our agreements was that he was to notify me whenever his parents were out of the house so I could come over and supervise. In a way, I was Kenny's babysitter.

So here we are, sitting in the back of the buss, on the way to his house. Of course it wasn't a cake walk for me either. His house still reeks of cat piss from his cheesing phase, and his family spends their little earnings on things other than cleaning supplies. In fact, cleaning seems to be the least of their worries.

"I'm sorry you feel you have to do this, dude." Kenny melted away the silence with his slightly raspy voice.

"It's alright, I don't mind." I replied simply, "It's good to hang out every now and again anyways."

He shrugged inwardly and set his banaged elbow onto the sill of the window, staring out into the vrooming scenery. I never understood why he insisted on wearing that orange jacket all the time. Even now- it's warm out and all he does is take off his hood and roll up the sleeves.

It's funny how the littlest things bothered me about him- and EVERYTHING about him was a little thing. And yet, he's one of the best people I've come to know as a friend.

The buss screeched to a rigid halt, opening the doors with an exhausting sound, awaiting for our departure impatiently. Kenny and I got up, swinging our backpacks over our shoulder, side stepping out of our seats. We stepped off the buss, onto the dead grass with random bits of broken glass- but I didn't mind it anymore.

It was just my second home, now, that or my office. Either which way you figured it, I was there for one reason. Kenny creeked the door ajar, revealing the living room with a single couch and a coffee table. Everything's stained, even the mahogany curtains on the window. It worries me how I don't find it repulsive...AS repulsive as I used to.

"Make yourself at home." Kenny requested, tossing the hand-me-down bag onto the couch, the bag squeezing out a cloud of dust from the cushion.

"Will do." I assured him, setting my backpack down near the entranceway.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked me, trying to be a good host.

"No thanks." I replied. I wasn't really for drinking metallic water at the moment.

The important thing about my visiting was to make it seem like everyday- to hide the objective at hand. Hopefully, doing this would make things easier for him. We usually just play a card game or talk about school to keep his mind busy, and that's exactly what we did tonight.

Tonight, we also played our own version of Apples to Apples. Where there was no guessing who's card the funniest was, basically put, Kenny picked a green card from the top of a pile as I picked a red card from the top of a red pile. The outcome was usually funny, but sometimes it was just pitiful.

"Smelly." Kenny anounced, setting the card onto the carpet.

I drew a card, reading it off, "Fire crackers."

"Smelly firecrackers. It's too slightly legit to be funny." Kenny shrugged inwardly, taking the cards and setting them aside. He leaned against the couch and sighed tiredly.

"Wanna do something else?" I asked him blandly. I figured he must've been bored or something.

"Hm? Nah. I'm just thinking." he breathed as he looked at the curvy designs on the ceiling.

"About what?" I pressed on. Not to sound rude- but he never thinks. By that, I mean he doesn't take the time to think. He usually has the instinct to just know and go, never really needing to think. In a way, that made him smart- of course, depending on the situation.

"Things." he straightened his posture, "Like you and what you sacrifice."

"What I sacrifice?" I repeated. What did he mean by that?

"Yea. You're really draining yourself of a social life, always having to supervise me." he twirled his wrist around casually.

"What're you talking about, dude? I'd rather be doing this than being dragged off with Cartman to get knee deep in shit." I assured as I leaned back with my hands planted firmly into the floor. In a way, Kenny WAS my social life, and there was something benefitting from it. I'd rather be doing something that matters than causing trouble.

"True. But.." he paused, looking troubled, "You also feel obligated to be here." he frowned a bit, the troubled look worsening.

"No." I started, "I felt obligated to be here when you had the chicken pox. Now, it's being there for a friend."

He blinked a bit, leaning off the couch to look at me. "Question."

"Answer."

"Does it ever feel like..a chore? To help a friend?" his brows furrowed inward, looking ashamed for asking.

Was he referring to me helping him? I wish he realised it's purely because I want him around for once. To not inflict pain on himself.

"Nah." I began, "Anything for a friend isn't a chore." I smiled, trying to help him relax.

I think I made it worse.

"Then.." he gulped, the frown deepening as he buried his face into his brought up knees, "Am I a bad person?"

"What- why?" I blurted. Why would he feel like a bad person? Sure, he does some dumb shit, but that doesn't make him a bad person.

"When we were little." he mumbled through his folded arms, "You guys asked a lot from me, and at first, I thought the same thing. That doing things for a friend wasn't really a chore.. But you guys began asking a lot of me. Later on, it really did feel like a chore." he preached, lowering his head further into his arms.

Wow. I can't believe how much of an ass we have been to him. We always sacrificed the most loyal friend anyone could have, and for the littlest things in the world. He never even got a simple thank you for any of it. We never even took no for an answer. For all I know, our old attitudes could be what made him this way. It tore me up inside, but probably not near as much as it was him.


End file.
